Time and Tide
by Alipeeps
Summary: The Last Man tag fic - WARNING! SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 4X20 - THE LAST MAN! Shep whump. "Consciousness came back slowly..."


_**WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CONTENT OF EPISODE 4X20 – THE LAST MAN!**__ Don't say you weren't warned… :)_

_Well, this episode just cried out for a tag… for several tags actually:D This chapter is pretty much about how the heck Sheppard got from passed out on the floor with his "bio-signs barely registering" to strolling into the stasis chamber looking pretty much back to normal. In other words, yes, it's an "insert added whump here" fic. What? You expected something else from me:D_

_The second and final chapter will pick up another missing scene from the episode._

_As ever, all feedback and concrit gratefully received.

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**Time and Tide**

"John? John!!

Consciousness came back slowly… and painfully. The voice pulled him up out of darkness, calling his name insistently. He became aware of a hard floor beneath him, realised vaguely that he was lying face down, a rough, gritty feeling against the skin of his face.

"That's it, John," the voice encouraged. As he woke up, so did a litany of aches and pains, and John groaned sluggishly. His whole body felt like one big ache, his muscles stiff and aching as though he'd been running for hours and hours - he shifted stiffly, trying to move his arms, and felt the fine, gritty texture of the floor shift and move with him…sand, he realised - oh yeah, or as though he had walked through a screaming sandstorm, staggering blindly forward as howling winds whipped grains of sand into a choking, scouring hell.

His head was pounding and he felt ridiculously weak and shaky, his limbs trembling as he tried to pull himself together and get moving. He wondered how long he'd been out… how long it'd been since he last ate anything. He coughed dryly.

"There you go," the voice said. Rodney's voice, he now realised. Only not really Rodney. A hologram of Rodney. His only companion in a lost and deserted city 48,000 years into the future.

"You can do it." Hologram or not, Rodney's voice was filled with a relief that sounded entirely real. John managed to get his legs moving too, pushing himself awkwardly up enough to roll over and flop inelegantly onto his back. His face felt hot and stifling, the handkerchief still pulled over his mouth and nose. He raised an unsteady hand enough to pull it down and cracked open his eyes to find Rodney crouched over him, concern evident on his disconcertingly wrinkled face.

"Rodney…" His voice came out as a whisper and his throat burned, tight and dry.

Rodney was babbling about not being able to help him up but John had already worked that bit out. He didn't feel up to even trying to stand right now so he settled for sliding himself awkwardly across the floor, the coating of sand actually helping, until he could prop himself wearily against the nearest wall with a gasp of relief. Everything looked oddly dark and John realised belatedly that he was still wearing his shades. The thought of raising a hand far enough to take them off was daunting and he elected to postpone the idea for the time being.

"How long was I out?" he asked tiredly. His voice sounded a little stronger, though his mouth and throat were still parched and sore. He slumped against the wall, feeling weak and dizzy.

"All night," Rodney told him worriedly. The hologram was still crouching in the sand-blown hallway, his expression unhappy as he looked down at John. "You don't look so good," Rodney told him, "maybe we should get you to the stasis chamber as soon as possible."

John closed his eyes, feeling too weary to move. "Agreed," he whispered tiredly. That definitely did sound like a good idea. The only problem was, it required getting up. And he wasn't really sure he could do getting up just yet. Maybe he'd just stay here for a bit, just until his head stopped spinning and his muscles felt a little less like jello.

"Sheppard!"

"Whuh?" Rodney's voice startled him, his limbs twitching as he jerked to awareness. He groaned as stiff and sore muscles protested the sudden movement.

"Oh, thank god."

He blinked blearily to find the Rodney hologram standing over him. Huh. Hadn't he been crouching down just a second ago?

"What?" The word came out mumbled; his head felt heavy, his thoughts foggy and confused.

"I couldn't wake you!" Rodney fretted. "I thought you were…"

John tried to focus. "Wake me?" he croaked. Rodney had already woken him; he'd been face down on the floor and Rodney had woken him up and he'd managed to shove himself as far as the wall…

"You passed out," Rodney told him shortly. "You passed out again and I couldn't wake you up!"

"Oh." John didn't remember passing out. And he certainly didn't feel any less crummy for his apparent nap. "How long…?" He had a crick in his neck from where he was slumped against the wall. He grimaced as he tried to move limbs that felt stiff and sluggish.

"Nearly two hours!" Rodney told him anxiously. That startled John and he tilted his head to look up at Rodney. It was hard to remember that this was a hologram, effectively an AI that Rodney had programmed with his own thoughts and memories and with as many potential variables as he could think of. The concern on the hologram's face was real, and John felt disoriented, seeing that emotion on this aged version of the face he knew so well. Two hours. That… that wasn't good. He remembered the sandstorm, remembered fumbling blindly along the wall, searching desperately for the door control. He even vaguely remembered the door opening suddenly in front of him and his legs giving way as he tumbled face-first into the blessed shelter of the corridor. He remembered waking up there, on the floor, stiff and aching and shaky, and pushing himself as far as the wall…

He didn't remember losing consciousness and the fact that he'd lost two hours without even realising it freaked him out a little.

"Come on," Rodney pleaded. "The sooner we get you to the stasis chamber, the better."

"Okay," John mumbled. "Okay."

He grunted with effort as he pushed himself reluctantly into motion, struggling to sit up straighter. He felt ridiculously shaky, his body stiff and clumsy. He managed to plant his hands on the floor and push himself upright, sliding himself closer to the wall until he could sit up, leaning his back against the wall. He huffed out a breath of air, feeling exhausted already. Hunger gnawed absently at his stomach and he tried vaguely to work out how long it had been since he'd had anything to eat… or drink. Seven hours or so waiting in vain for the storm to clear, a night spent unconscious on the floor – he realised he had no idea how long the nights were on this planet now, after so many centuries had passed – another two hours propped against the wall…

"Come _on_, Sheppard!" Rodney nagged anxiously.

"I'm _trying_, Rodney," he snapped, a little testily. "Just…" he fought for breath, "just gimme a minute…"

"John, please," the Rodney hologram was crouching down in front of him, his hands fluttering helplessly. "I'd help you if I could but I can't _touch_ anything like this." He clenched his hands into fists in frustration. "You need to get up and you need to get to the stasis chamber. Otherwise everything, all of this, will have been for nothing…"

John looked into that familiar face and it didn't matter that this was a hologram; John saw a man, a _friend_, who had never stopped looking for him, who had obviously spent his life searching for a solution, a way to bring about this moment, to save John and, in so doing, to save Teyla, Ronon, Sam, _everyone_.

"I know." John nodded and Rodney stood up, backing away as John gritted his teeth and forced his aching body to move. Slowly, unsteadily, he managed to scramble over onto his hands and knees, the effort making his head spin and his stomach churn. He swallowed thickly, breathing in a shallow pant. When he felt steady enough, he dragged one leg up far enough to get a foot planted on the floor and clambered stiffly to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.

He was aware of Rodney hovering anxiously, his hands outstretched as though waiting to catch him, as dizziness sideswiped him, making him wobble dangerously, clinging onto the wall as he concentrated just on breathing and on not falling over.

"John?"

He swallowed, his mouth dry and gritty, and opened his eyes. "I'm good," he mumbled thickly. "Let's go."

He felt ridiculously shaky, his legs trembling under him as he took a couple of unsteady steps, hugging the wall as he went. He was aware of Rodney beside him, knew that if he looked up he'd see the hologram watching him anxiously. He took a moment to snag his sunglasses with an unsteady hand and fumble them into a pocket.

He kept his head down, concentrating on staying upright, on keeping moving, his gaze locked on the patch of floor just in front of him. "Stop hovering, Rodney," he groused a little breathlessly. "It's not like you can catch me if I fall…"

The hologram harrumphed in a way that was achingly familiar before stalking forward to walk ahead of John. "Sorry," Rodney muttered, "force of habit."

John would have pointed out the ridiculousness of that statement but he stumbled then, tripping over his own feet, and his legs buckled. He dropped heavily to the floor, landing on his knees with a grunt and managing to catch himself on outstretched hands just in time to avoid sprawling full-length on the corridor floor.

"Sheppard!" Helpless to do anything, Rodney immediately began to panic.

Dizzy and aching, John didn't have the breath to reply. Hunched over on hands and knees, he let his head hang down as he waited for the dizziness and nausea to pass, his breathing rapid and shallow. His arms trembled under him and he wobbled as vertigo made him feel like he was listing to one side.

"John? Are you okay?"

He coughed out a choked laugh. Okay? Not even close to it. He felt horrible. But that didn't matter. None of this mattered. He had to make it as far as the stasis chamber… and then this reality would cease to exist because Rodney would send him back, would fix the timeline, and John would find Teyla and save everyone. He swallowed a few times, trying to get some moisture into his mouth, and rasped, "I'm good."

It took a moment more before he felt steady enough to try and get up, leaning heavily against the wall as he got a foot under him and pushed slowly to his feet. Rodney was hovering uncertainly. John flapped a hand at him, waving away the concern. "I'll be okay," he insisted.

Obviously unconvinced, Rodney took a step backwards, as John set off again with a grunt. They walked like that for about twenty stumbling paces, Rodney walking backwards in order to keep an eye on John, before John lost his patience and a growled, "Rodney!" convinced the hologram to turn around and look where he was going, instead of staring at John.

They didn't talk much as they walked, John concentrating mostly on putting one foot in front of the other and Rodney seeming lost in his own worries, his attention split between navigating their route through the city and throwing quick, concerned glances at John.

John began to feel a little stronger as he walked; movement loosening his stiff muscles and adrenalin eventually kicking in, shaking off some of the lethargy and dizziness. After a while, he was able to push away from the wall and walk mostly upright. He stumbled twice more, the first time catching himself on the wall before he hit the ground but the second time caught him off-guard, sending him sprawling full-length, falling right through Rodney's outstretched hands as the hologram tried futilely to catch him.

"Ooof!" The impact knocked the breath out of him, leaving him shaken and gasping for air. His head spun dizzily, the corridor feeling like it was tilting and shifting under him, and he clenched his teeth against the rising nausea. He groaned miserably.

"John…" Rodney was crouching beside him. "You have to get up. Please. You're nearly there now…"

The desperation in Rodney's voice was palpable and John suddenly realised that the hologram hadn't told him anything about what had happened to McKay in this awful, messed-up timeline. John sucked in a breath and started coughing, the sound rough and painful in his dry throat. He coughed so hard it left him shuddering and blinking dry, gritty eyes. He realised numbly that it was a bad sign that his eyes weren't watering, that it meant he was badly dehydrated.

The coughing fit left him weak, his arms shaking as he tried to push himself up to his hands and knees.

"That's it," Rodney encouraged. "You can do it."

He staggered as he got to his feet, almost falling again, but managed to grab hold of the wall and cling to it long enough to steady himself. It took him longer to get going again and he was painfully aware that his progress was even slower now. Adrenalin was wearing off and he was exhausted, feeling every ache and pain.

Rodney was talking more now, talking a lot. He prattled endlessly as they walked, alternating between offering encouragement and exhortations to continue, and technobabble about how he had set-up this whole plan and how it would fix the timeline – fix everything. Sheppard listened only vaguely, the familiar drone of techno-speak comfortingly familiar as he focused on keeping moving, shambling tiredly onwards.

Sheer determination kept him upright, kept him moving, and by the time they reached the stasis chamber he was walking mostly steadily, his feet dragging a little, his breathing heavier than it should be, betraying his exhaustion. He was wearily convinced that if he stopped walking, he'd never get moving again.

Ignoring the constant ache that seemed to encompass his entire body, John listened carefully as Rodney explained about the crystal and the information it contained. There was one thing Rodney still hadn't explained though.

"You know, you never told me what happened to you," John pointed out quietly. "I mean in the past…"

Rodney's face fell and again John was forced to remind himself that this wasn't really Rodney, was a hologram programmed to look and act like him. "Oh, you don't want to hear about that," Rodney dismissed sadly.

"Well, why not?" John pushed. "Obviously you survived…"

"Only because I quit."

John found that hard to believe. The Rodney he knew was the most stubborn, determined, loyal person he'd ever met. He couldn't imagine Rodney ever giving up on Atlantis, turning his back on Pegasus.

"Well, that doesn't sound like you…"

John was almost swaying on his feet by the time Rodney finished telling his story, both from growing exhaustion and from the hollow bleakness of what he was hearing. He'd walked through the gate and in the blink of an eye his whole life was gone, all his friends dying lonely, ultimately futile deaths… all except Rodney who had subsumed all his ambition, all his incredible determination, and turned it inwards, devoting his life to finding a way to fix things, to make everything better… by bringing John home.

He'd managed to struggle painfully out of his tac vest, dumping it and the P90 on the floor, and now he stood hesitantly beside the stasis chamber, at a loss for what to do – or say – next.

He looked into the old, weary eyes of his friend and hoped against hope that this would work, that he could change all this and prevent the pain and sacrifice written in the lined and wrinkled skin. "Well. I guess I've had a tough day but you've had a tough 25 years," he mumbled inadequately.

Rodney seemed to shake himself, sloughing off the painful memories and looking to the future. Well, the past. The past that was going to be... John hated time travel.

"Okay. We're ready," Rodney decided.

Even as he stepped a little unsteadily into the stasis chamber, John couldn't help the frisson of fear that ran through him. He was already thousands and thousands of years in the future, everyone and everything he'd ever known long dead and gone, was possibly even the last human being alive. The thought of being put to sleep for another thousand years was… What if he never woke up, was entombed in this place for thousands more years, a forgotten relic of a civilisation long-dead… until the expanding sun burned through this dying planet, turning him to dust and embers, just like everyone else…? Or what if Rodney's plan didn't work? What if he stepped out of stasis only to choke and die on a dead, airless planet? What if he made it to the gate but the solar flare didn't work and he ended up further into the future? Or not far enough back into the past? Too late to save Teyla, too late to change things, condemned to watch helplessly as everything fell apart.

"Now if this works," Rodney said, unconsciously echoing John's thoughts, "I'll be waiting right here when you come out. We don't have much time to get you through the gate but I think we can manage it."

Still haunted by the myriad of things that could go wrong, that could destroy this one and only chance to set things straight, John asked hollowly, "And if it doesn't work?"

"Well, you won't feel a thing," Rodney offered faint reassurance. "Basically, you just… won't wake up."

That's not what I meant, he wanted to say. Instead he nodded. "Right."

They stood there, two friends separated by 48,000 years, give or take, and suddenly, despite his exhaustion, John didn't want this moment to end, wasn't ready to slip into oblivion just yet.

"In the past 25 years," he blurted, "did you happen to notice who won the Superbowl?"

Rodney looked bemused. "Oh. I'm afraid not."

Feeling possibly more afraid than he'd ever been, John asked, "Stanley Cup? World Series?"

Rodney was apologetic. "I was never really much of a sports fan."

"Right. I had to ask."

Rodney nodded his understanding. There was nothing more to say. This was it.

"Good luck, John."

He didn't have chance to reply.

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_TBC…_


End file.
